


Listen To Teeth To Learn How To Quit

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Series: High Hopes [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Not Daddy Kink, Still Not The Daddy Kink You're Looking For, Warning: Kris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun will do whatever it takes to spend more time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen To Teeth To Learn How To Quit

When he wakes up in the morning and sees the ridges of Kris's spine disappearing underneath the sheet pulled up to his hips, Sehun isn't sure if he's still asleep and just having a really good dream. Until, of course, Kris rolls over in his sleep and pulls Sehun closer, curls into his chest and heaves a contented sigh through his nose. 

"What time is it?" Kris croaks, eyes still closed, voice muffled by Sehun's body. Sehun peers over at the clock on the dresser and brings a hand to the base of Kris's neck, stroking circles into the soft fuzz of his hairline.

"Not even seven. Go back to sleep."

"You, too," Kris grumbles, nuzzling his face into the space between Sehun's elbow and the pillow underneath them. 

Sehun pulls the covers back over their shoulders and closes his eyes. He hadn't planned on coming back to Kris's place after dinner last night, it just sort of... happened.

It's been happening a lot lately. More than it's supposed to, if Sehun's being honest with himself (although his slipping grades keep reminding him every time he conveniently forgets that homework doesn't just do itself).

The alarm goes off an hour later. Sehun thinks it'd probably be easier to excavate a mammoth fossil from the ground by hand than pull Kris from bed in the mornings, especially cold ones like this. It's not like Sehun particularly likes getting up, but with the way Kris whines and pleads for five more minutes, sometimes Sehun wonders who's supposed to be the college kid and who's the _young professional._

Kris wakes up in the shower enough to help Sehun wash his back, pressing his lips against the dip in Sehun's shoulder to suck a dark red kiss in the pink flesh there. Sehun whimpers, turns around to rut his boner against Kris's thigh before he's rebuked by a quiet laugh, a pair of sleepy brown eyes.

"No time for that," Kris murmurs, working the conditioner through to the tips of his hair. Sehun sighs.

"We could make it quick."

"We did last night," Kris reminds him. "Twice. I wanted to be asleep by midnight, remember? You can't do it on both ends of my night, I'm going to be all fucked out."

"That's not fair," Sehun protests. "I'm a growing boy. I have needs."

"Yeah? Well I'm an old man. With a job." Kris grins and ducks his head under the stream of water to rinse his hair. "You've got a hand. Use it. Or you can always go find someone your own age—"

"Will you quit it?" Sehun snaps. "I don't want someone my own age. I want you." He leers, suddenly playful. "I've got a thing for old balls."

Kris cups a handful of water in Sehun's face and cranks the shower all the way to cold before he steps out. Sehun shrieks and claws at the tap until the warm water returns.

 

 

Once he's out of the shower, though, Kris is a machine. He already has breakfast waiting on the table when Sehun finally trails out of the bedroom, wearing the jeans he'd arrived in last night and a shirt Kris recognizes as one of his own.

"That looks good on you," he says, turning his back. "Can't believe I've finally met someone who fits in my clothes."

"I should start keeping things at your place," Sehun says casually, and Kris chokes on his protein shake. 

"You have a closet," he says darkly, mopping at his tie with a napkin. "Leave mine alone. There's hardly enough space for my stuff already."

"It's all the way back in my dorm, though," Sehun argues, shoving an entire slice of toast in his mouth at once. "How am I supposed to—"

"Sehun. That's gross. Chew, then talk." Kris sets his empty glass in the sink. "You're not moving in with me. We _talked_ about this—"

"I know, but—"

"You're in your first semester of college. Go live on campus and be a normal college kid first." He smiles and ruffles Sehun's hair. "You spend enough time here as it is."

Sehun scowls, still chewing, and combs his fringe back over his eyes with his fingers. "You're no fun," he says thickly around his mouthful of bread. "Do you even remember what dorms are like? Communal showers—"

"I'm not _that_ old," Kris says, rolling his eyes. "Now come on. I'm not going to have time to drop you off before work if you don't—"

Loud, frantic pounding at the front door interrupts him. "Don't even worry about it," Sehun says, hopping out of his chair at the sound. "I already texted Jongin. He came to pick me up. I remember what happened last time you were late."

Kris looks taken aback. "I—wow. Okay. Thank you."

Sehun shoulders his backpack from where he'd discarded it near the front door the night before. "See? I can be responsible."

"Sometimes," Kris agrees, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss right in the center of Sehun's wide grin. "You're learning."

Jongin knocks on the door again. "Yo. Put your pants on and let's go, Sehun. I need to grab coffee before lecture."

"Go," Kris says gently. "I'll call you later."

Sehun buries his face in the crook of Kris's neck and clings, lanky arms twined together at the wrist to rest in the shallow dip at the small of Kris's back. "Don't wanna go," he whines, suddenly childish. Kris chuckles. 

"You make it sound like I'm not going to see you on the weekend."

"Why can't I stay weeknights, though?"

Kris sighs. "What's the point of your parents paying all that money for housing if you're only using it for storage? When was the last time you hung out with Jongin? And I _know_ you had homework last night that you didn't do—"

"Alright, alright," Sehun relents, stepping back into his own space. "You sound like my dad when you get like this. Don't. I'm here because I want to be here. I see Jongin in class."

"When you _go_ —"

Sehun makes a face. "Kris."

"I'm serious, Sehun," Kris says, adjusting his tie. "You can't just coast. You need to work hard. I don't want to be the reason you fail a class."

 

 

Sehun's not satisfied with this arrangement, though. He hates going through the week without being able to see Kris. Jongin's not even in the room half the time—spends a lot of nights in someone else's bed (Sehun doesn't ask, mostly out of spiteful jealousy at not being able to do the same). 

So when he sees an advertisement in the department newsletter about an opening for a part-time internship at the Canadian embassy next semester, he applies. And when he gets it, he thinks, _Kris is going to be so proud of me. I'm being responsible and I'm finding a reason to spend more time together._

He doesn't tell Kris, though. He wants to see his face light up when he shows up in the last place he expects to see him. He spends a few heated minutes in the shower thinking about impromptu sex on Kris's desk and comes hard against the tiled wall, grinning victoriously into his knuckles to stifle the sound.

 

 

He only works on Mondays and Wednesdays, and he's not working in the same department as Kris. That would've been too good to be true, but he'll take what he can get. So it's a week and change into the spring semester before he gives up on taking the long way to deliver messages trying to run into him 'accidentally' in the hallway and waits outside Kris's office just before lunch, hoping to catch him.

He waits at the water fountain, thumb poised on the button, ready to look busy in case someone walks by and finds him lurking. There's no reason for him to be here: he's working in the international business and trade department. Strictly governmental contracts and paperwork, no need for interaction with any of the other departments. If someone asks him what he's doing he'll have to go back to his cubicle and try again tomorrow.

Finally, footsteps. He bows over the water fountain and takes a long drink. It tastes like shit—warm, and too much like gravel. Five. Four. Three. Two. One—

"Sehun?"

He'd recognize that voice anywhere. It's stupid because he's heard Kris say his name a thousand times before and he still gets these stupid excited butterflies every time. He turns slowly, practicing his best astonished face. 

"Kris?"

Kris is standing in the middle of the hallway, open-mouthed, flanked by two older associates who look between Kris and Sehun with poorly-concealed curiosity. He says something to them in English (Sehun thinks it's something like, "I'll meet you at the restaurant," but he's not paying that much attention when Kris looks so _unhappy_ to see him) and they retreat, still staring at Sehun like he's got two heads or something. 

"What are you _doing_ here?" Kris demands the minute they're alone. "At my job? Wearing my _clothes_? They're going to—you can't be in here, they're going to kick you out." He looks over Sehun's shoulder down the hallway. "Look, I'm on my lunch, let me drive you back to school— _fuck_ , Sehun, I know we've been busy lately, but you can't just visit me at work without giving me a head's up first. Today's really not a good day—"

Sehun pulls his arm from Kris's grip. "Stop. Calm down. I work here too."

"Very funny, Sehun." Kris scowls, taking a fresh hold of Sehun's shoulder. "Come on." Sehun yanks away again stubbornly and stands back against the wall. He likes to tease Kris about their age difference even though he knows four years isn't really a big deal because he likes to get a rise out of him. But now—four years feels more like forty with the way Kris is treating him like he's a child.

"I got an internship," Sehun says stiffly, eyes lowered to the floor. He hadn't expected Kris to panic quite so much. "In the business department. Through my school."

Kris takes a moment to let this information sink in. "And you didn't tell me?" He rubs his knuckles against his eyes wearily.

"Surprise?" Sehun hates this. This is not how it was supposed to go. His neck is flushed hot with embarrassment and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He's spent his entire relationship with Kris pushing the boundaries and he realizes that even as patient as he is, there might be some things Kris isn't ready to sacrifice for him. That maybe Kris creates space for them during the week because he needs it for himself more than he ever wants to admit to Sehun.

That maybe he just doesn't want to see him every day as much as Sehun wants to see him.

"Well," Kris says, clearing his throat. "Congratulations, I guess."

"Yeah. I'm—going to go," Sehun says, burying his fists into his pockets. "Sorry I borrowed your shirt. I really didn't think you'd care, but, uh, I'll—get it cleaned before I return it."

Kris sighs. "Sehun…"

Sehun escapes before Kris can say anything else.

He waits the rest of the work day in his cubicle, shuffling papers and nervously watching the door, hoping Kris doesn't come by. He doesn't, but texts Sehun instead, at 4:59: _I know it's a weeknight, but can you come over tonight? We should talk._

Sehun stares at the screen of his phone, eyes dry and stinging. _Yeah,_ he taps out finally, wondering if this is it.

 

 

He shows up just after dark, dressed casually. Jeans, a sweater. The snapback Kris gave him for his birthday last year. Jongin drives him over to Kris's apartment and tells him to call if he needs a ride. "Doesn't matter what time it is, man," he says in a rare moment of earnest. "Let me know."

Sehun wants to stand at the door for a while and work up the courage but Kris is already waiting with the door wide open, watching past Sehun as Jongin's headlights veer backwards and speed off into the night.

"You didn't bring a bag," he notes. Sehun toes off his shoes on the mat, eyes still glued to the floor. He feels hot and uncomfortable all over again and Kris asking that just hurts because it's just dragging out the inevitable.

"Did I need to?" he asks mulishly. "We're just talking, right."

"Hey." Kris slides his hand under Sehun's chin and lifts it. "Look. I'm really sorry about how I reacted today. You just—caught me off guard." He rocks forward on the balls of his feet and kisses Sehun on the temple. His lips linger there for a moment, breath hot on his skin. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Sehun nods a little too vigorously, trying to stop himself from crying. He's so overwhelmed—relief, gratitude, maybe even a little bit of love. "I'm sorry too," he says, trying his best to sound normal despite the lump knotting itself at the back of his throat. Kris shadows his hands down Sehun's arms and lets them come to rest over Sehun's wrists.

"I know I freaked you out. And you weren't expecting me to—well. I'm just. Sorry," Kris mutters, looking dangerously close to tears himself. He coughs loudly and gestures towards the living room. "I got dinner for us. I hope—that's okay? You haven't eaten yet, have you?" He's still unsure, anxious fingers spinning the silver ring on his index finger around and around.

As if on cue, Sehun's stomach grumbles. Kris chuckles and the tension breaks for a moment.

"I'll take that as a no, then."

Sehun sits in awkward silence while Kris brings the food over to the coffee table and fumbles with the remote until he finds some movie on the television and turns the volume down just enough to allow for conversation. 

"Are you ashamed of me?" Sehun asks suddenly, voice quiet, fiddling with the brim of his snapback. He's been dying to know ever since he saw Kris's face earlier that day, the way he'd waved off his co-workers instead of saying, _this is my boyfriend._ Kris takes his time to consider the question, lets it sit between his clenched molars while he opens the carton of takeout and sets it on the coffee table in front of them.

Finally, he clears his throat. "Of you? No. Why would I be? You don't have anything to be ashamed of."

Sehun's not satisfied with that answer. Feeling brave, he swings an impossibly long leg over Kris's lap, nearly leveling the coffee table as he lowers himself into a straddle around Kris's thighs. " _I_ don't have anything to be ashamed of? Does that mean that you do?" He mouths at the dip where Kris's jaw meets his ear, presses a few wet kisses into the soft skin. "Don't start that pulling that double-speak shit with me. Answer my question."

Kris closes his eyes and swallows. "Maybe a little bit, yeah," he admits. His words are rough, sandpapery and dry. Sehun sits back and frowns, feeling like he's been punched in the chest.

"Why?" The remote slips easily out of Kris's hands. Sehun mutes the television and turns back to him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Because. You're. You haven't been in college very long, is all I'm saying. I just—really should've waited before—" 

"You did wait. You made me wait forever," Sehun whines. "You didn't lay a finger on me until my Coming of Age day... I mean, then you used all your fingers at once and it became a different kind of Coming of Age day, but—"

"Christ, Sehun." Kris covers his mouth and groans. "You make me sound like a total pervert. It wasn't like I started out wanting to fuck you, it just—I liked you a lot. And you were very persuasive, and I thought I was leaving the country, and. I don't know." The apartment is very quiet, a thick silence that settles over them, works its way into the space between their bodies and sits, waiting. "You always make it sound like I had ulterior motives."

"I don't think that." Sehun pouts, voice softening. He's learned, in the eight months they've been officially _together_ (whatever that means), when they're about to have a circular argument. Now is one of those times. He occupies his hands with the placket of Kris's dress shirt, curling his fingers underneath it. "You stayed, though."

"I told you, Sehun, I didn't stay for you, I stayed because—"

"Yeah, yeah," Sehun says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Because you got the job at the embassy." He stares, watches the heavy bob of Kris's throat as he swallows. "I also think you wouldn't tell me even if a tiny part of you wanted to stay for me."

Kris grits his teeth and looks away. Sehun nods, like that's confirming some suspicion he's had for a long time. He clambers out of Kris's lap and onto the floor.

"Pork dumplings are mine," he announces after a painful silence, rummaging around in the pile of napkins for a pair of chopsticks. Kris shakes his head and blinks at Sehun.

"Hm? They are not. You'd better share."

Sehun offers him a sly smile before presenting Kris with a fried dumpling, still steaming. Kris accepts it with open hands and pops it into his mouth, grinning. "Thanks," he manages as he chews. Sehun nods and goes back to his food.

"Yeah."

"You going to come sit with me so we can watch this movie, or are you just going to sulk on the floor all night? I can drop you back at the dorms if you'd prefer to sleep there tonight—"

"No, no," Sehun says quickly. "I want to stay here." It's a Wednesday night and Sehun recognizes the significance of Kris asking him to stay on a weeknight: his own small way of reaching out, of atoning.

Kris waits until the dinner things are cleared away before he pulls Sehun into his chest and just holds him there, face turned into the line of his neck. "I'm not ashamed of you. I'm very, very proud of you."

Sehun nearly loses his composure. "I promise I won't come bug you again, I just—miss you. It's nice to get to see you during the day, even if it's just for thirty seconds. Since I normally don't get to do that at all."

Kris sighs and nestles his face in Sehun's shoulder. "I really can't—you're an intern, Sehun, in another department, and there are all sorts of regulations—"

"I know, it was stupid. I'm really sorry. I don't want you to get fired because of me." He sniffles, hoping Kris doesn't notice the lone tear working its way down his cheek. 

"Hey," Kris whispers, pressing a subdued kiss on the obstinate jut of Sehun's chin. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm not going to get fired." He steps back suddenly, remembering something. "I bought you something. Come with me."

"You bought—what? When?" Sehun scuffs his socked feet along the carpet behind Kris, all the way into the bedroom. Kris searches for the light switch in the dark for a moment before he locates it.

"Go look in the closet."

Sehun wrinkles his nose. "Why?"

"Just. Go look." Kris is terrible at hiding his smiles when he's pleased with himself. Sehun slides open the folding door and stares for a moment at the row of crisp, pressed shirts—the blazers—the—

Oh.

Three shirts were set aside at the far left of the closet, separated from the rest of Kris's clothes by a long suit bag. "I don't understand."

"Work clothes."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Your. Um. Work clothes."

Sehun's hands pause over the collar of the pale yellow shirt in the middle, eyes wide. When he turns, Kris is smiling awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Just those three, though—don't—don't start moving in all your shit, or anything. I know how much you own and there's no room for it all, but. I just figured. You know." He licks his lips, embarrassed. "That it might be easier for us to carpool. In the mornings."

"You mean—"

"Yeah." Kris nods, slow and deliberate. "I'm lifting the weekday ban."

Too excited to stay away any longer, Sehun lunges forward and kisses Kris, mouth open, hands searching for the neck of Kris's shirt to pull him against his body. He wants to say _thank you_ but it just seems so small compared to how he feels, the way his face trembles from the exertion of smiling so hard, the fullness in his chest that threatens to split his ribcage.

Kris backs up until his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he sits. Sehun crowds closer, pushes him flat and lies on top of him, body draped like a heavy blanket. He rocks his hips experimentally and feels Kris rise in response, hard, constrained by the fabric of his trousers.

"So you like the shirts, then." Kris laughs into the side of Sehun's face, raking his hair back off his forehead with smooth, drawn-out strokes that make Sehun's whole body tingle.

"Yes. Shut up about the shirts, though," Sehun mutters into the side of Kris's face. "I want to be asleep before midnight. We've got to get up early in the morning."

Kris laughs out loud at the irony of this particular statement and flips Sehun bodily so he's straddling him, watching intently as Sehun pulls at the buckle of his belt and yanks it out of his pants. "I like it when you're dressed up," he admits, licking his lips. 

Sehun grins, peering out of the neck hole of his shirt as he pulls it over his head. "Now you see how I feel when I see you in the mornings."

Kris shakes his head, obviously fighting back a smirk. "You're going to get me in so much trouble," he breathes, bowing his head to kiss Sehun again.

Kris really takes his time with Sehun, litters every inch of his thighs with soft nips and pecks while his fingers work Sehun open, then coaxes him up on his knees and lowers him onto his dick slowly so he doesn't hurt him. Sehun catches him staring and laughs, fingers splayed against the hard planes of his ribcage for balance.

"You going to help me out here, or—"

Kris sinks his fingers into the plush round of Sehun's thighs, lifts him gently and cants his hips up, slips cleanly all the way into Sehun and lies there for a moment, breathing heavily, eyes screwed shut, mouth agape. Sehun moans brokenly, sobs Kris's name, yanks at the sheets underneath him, searching for something to hold onto. Kris fucks into him harder, feet braced flat against the bed.

"God. Kris," Sehun yelps, eyes screwed shut, face red from exertion. Kris holds him steady and pistons his groin until Sehun's buckled in half, hand wrapped tightly around his own dick as he pulls himself to completion. His vision freckles with light when he blinks, whispering in Kris's ear, _"Fuck, yes, fuck me—please—yes—"_

Kris holds still, body quivering as he comes in Sehun so hard he seems to stop breathing for a moment.

Sehun is spent after that—physically, emotionally. He doesn't even have the voice to say _thank you_ or _I love you_ even though Kris keeps whispering it into his navel. He curls into the pillows and lies there boneless while Kris cleans him up with a damp washcloth and comes back after turning the lights off.

"You okay?" he asks hoarsely. His voice sounds so much smaller in the dark.

Sehun smiles and nods against his clavicle.

"Are _we_ okay?"

Sehun nods again, kisses the side of Kris's neck. His skin is salty with sweat but it's Sehun's favorite taste because it's so uniquely him. A little musky, a little spicy. Clean.

"I'm sorry," Kris whispers again. Under the covers, his fingers come to find Sehun's, tangles them together and pulls them back up to his sternum.

"You've said that like a hundred times already. I get it," Sehun teases. And then, quieter: "Me, too."

He'll have to text Jongin at a more respectable hour to arrange for his economics homework to make it to the professor on time. But none of that matters right now, because Kris's arm is heavy and warm over his chest even though it's a weeknight, and he's closer to sleep than not.

So he sleeps.


End file.
